Loyalty Dog Quotes

A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things-a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.

Never mind, said Hachiko each day. Here I wait, for my friend who’s late. I will stay, just to walk beside you for one more day.

People leave imprints on our lives, shaping who we become in much the same way that a symbol is pressed into the page of a book to tell you who it comes from. Dogs, however, leave paw prints on our lives and our souls, which are as unique as fingerprints in every way.

The greatest fear dogs know is the fear that you will not come back when you go out the door without them.

Loyalty is for the dogs. Count me among the cats. And count me twice—once for each of my faces.

Dogs, lives are short, too short, but you know that going in. You know the pain is coming, you're going to lose a dog, and there's going to be great anguish, so you live fully in the moment with her, never fail to share her joy or delight in her innocence, because you can't support the illusion that a dog can be your lifelong companion. There's such beauty in the hard honesty of that, in accepting and giving love while always aware that it comes with an unbearable price. Maybe loving dogs is a way we do penance for all the other illusions we allow ourselves and the mistakes we make because of those illusions.

My purpose, my whole life, had been to love him and be with him, to make him happy. I didn’t want to cause any unhappiness now—in that way, I decided it was probably better than he wasn’t here to see this, though I missed him so much at that moment the ache of it was as bad as the strange pains in my belly.

Dogs die. But dogs live, too. Right up until they die, they live. They live brave, beautiful lives. They protect their families. And love us. And make our lives a little brighter. And they don't waste time being afraid of tomorrow.

Humans didn't deserve the love and loyalty dogs gave them.

The dog is a loyal, lovable animal but Hindu scriptures do not treat it as an auspicious creature perhaps because loyalty feeds on fear and the purpose of Vedic scriptures is to outgrow fear by expanding the mind.

Dogs are geniuses of loyalty. And that is a good kind of genius to have.

To be sure, the dog is loyal. But why, on that account, should we take him as an example? He is loyal to man, not to other dogs.

EVERY DOG’S STORY I have a bed, my very own. It’s just my size. And sometimes I like to sleep alone with dreams inside my eyes. But sometimes dreams are dark and wild and creepy and I wake and am afraid, though I don’t know why. But I’m no longer sleepy and too slowly the hours go by. So I climb on the bed where the light of the moon is shining on your face and I know it will be morning soon. Everybody needs a safe place.

Heaven is a place where all the dogs you've ever loved come to greet you.

Thorns may hurt you, men desert you, sunlight turn to fog; but you're never friendless ever, if you have a dog.

You see, sometimes in life, the best thing for all that ails you has fur and four legs.

You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his dog....

Men," said Mr. Kyle, "people have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time. One never knows what they'll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master. Some people call this loyalty. I don't. I may be wrong, but I call it love - the deepest kind of love." After these words were spoken, a thoughtful silence settled over the men. The mood was broken by the deep growling voice I had heard back in the washout. "It's a shame that people all over the world can't have that kind of love in their hearts," he said. "There would be no wars, slaughter, or murder; no greed or selfishness. It would be the kind of world that God wants us to have - a wonderful world.

You'd help if you could, wouldn't you, boy?" I said. "It's no wonder they call you man's best friend. Faithful and loyal and true, you share in our sorrows and rejoice with us in our triumphs, the truest friend we ever have known, a better friend than we deserve. You have thrown in your lot with us, through thick and thin, on battlefield and hearthrug, refusing to leave your master even when death and destruction lie all around. Ah, noble dog, you are the furry mirror in which we see our better selves reflected, man as he could be, unstained by war or ambition, unspoilt by-

Sometimes I think I like dogs more than I like humans. The only time a dog has ever betrayed me... was by dying.

Pets reflect you like mirrors. When you are happy, you can see your dog smiling and when you are sad, your cat cries.

The dog looked up in entreaty. Liquid brown eyes begged: Take me with you. I’ll be good. Oh, the lies that dogs told.

Mustang: (snatches puppy) Dog, huh? (pause) I LOVE DOGS! Fuery: Really? You mean it?! Mustang: OF COURSE! Dogs embody loyalty! They follow their master's commands above all else! Be a jerk to them and they don't complain and they never once beg for a paycheck! Trust me, Fuery, they're the great servants of man! (sings) LOYAL CANINE, HOW WE SALUTE THEE!

Men," said Mr. Kyle, "people have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time. One never knows what they'll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master. Some people call this loyalty. I don't. I may be wrong, but I call it love--the deepest kind of love.

Some women would not cheat, and some would not have cheated, had they each married a man whom they love … or at least like.

However, for all his affection and loyalty towards the animal, the dog would soon be leaving him - they would both be present at a celebratory dinner when they reached the roof, he reflected with a touch of gallows-humour, but the poodle would be in the pot.

Because we need each other. We complete each other. Duty works both ways. Love needs a beloved. Loyalty needs two to be loyalty. Fidelity is nothing without someone to be faithful to. Every dog needs a human, and every human needs a dog.

Loyalty. Is it something only dogs know? When I think of it, I wonder if I would rather have it than love. Whereas love is often an over-used word and an unpredictable feeling, the other is nothing but dependability.

They say that dogs may dream, and when Topsy was old, his feet would move in his sleep. With his eyes closed he would often make a noise that sounded quite human, as if greeting someone in his dreams. At first it seemed that he believed Sara would return, but as the years went by I understood that his loyalty asked for no reward, and that love comes in unexpected forms. His wish was small, as hers had been -- merely to be beside her. As for me, I already knew I would never get what I wanted.

You will never know loneliness when you have a dog, when you lose that dog it will be loneliness like you've never known.

What I've learned to do when I sit down to work on a shitty first draft is to quiet the voices in my head. First there's the vinegar-lipped Reader Lady, who says primly, "Well, that's not very interesting, is it?" And there's the emaciated German male who writes these Orwellian memos detailing your thought crimes. And there are your parents, agonizing over your lack of loyalty and discretion; and there's William Burroughs, dozing off or shooting up because he finds you as bold and articulate as a houseplant; and so on. And there are also the dogs: let's not forget the dogs, the dogs in their pen who will surely hurtle and snarl their way out if you ever stop writing, because writing is, for some of us, the latch that keeps the door of the pen closed, keeps those crazy ravenous dogs contained.

Even dogs know how important it is to hear somebody else breathing.

A dog's love is only second to that of a mother's.

My expectations of what I wanted in a man I learned from a dog: loyalty and kindness.

Like the cat who finds her way back home over a thousand miles, like the dog who waits for his master to arrive on the train that never comes, like the one who keeps a vigil at her master’s grave until she too can cross the bridge, some people and their pets are woven together by threads of life and they cannot, and will not, for long be separated.

A hound will die for you, but never lie to you.

This assumption that she need look for no more devotion now that her beauty had passed proceeded from the fact that she had never realized any love save love as passion. Such love, though it expends itself in generosity and thoughtfulness, though it give birth to visions and to great poetry, remains among the sharpest expressions of self-interest. Not until it has passed through a long servitude, through its own self-hatred, through mockery, through great doubts, can it take its place among the loyalties. Many who have spent a lifetime in it can tell us less of love than the child that lost a dog yesterday.

I didn’t understand how people could hurt any animals, but especially dogs. They were too good for us. Humans didn’t deserve the love and loyalty dogs gave them.

We need to go first because we cannot live without your love and care. If we lived longer than you, we would not and could not survive. It’s supposed to be this way. We also need to cross the Rainbow Bridge before you do so that we can be on the other side to greet you when you get there. We wait at home for you here and we wait at Home for you there. It’s just the way it is.

Dogs are loyal, patient, fearless, forgiving, and capable of pure love. Virtues that few people get through life without abandoning, at least once.

No dog ever thinks that ordinary loyalty is anything special. But people have elevated this feeling dogs have into something unusual because not all people have a sense of loyalty and fidelity strong enough to be the root of their lives, the natural base of their existence.

He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever - in case I need him. And I expect I will - as I always have. He is just my dog.

Dogs are owned for their loyalty, but men are owned only because of their stupidity.

Even the tiniest poodle is lionhearted, ready to do anything to defend home, master, and mistress.

Death had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It had taken the one in the loyalty of love, and the other in the innocence of faith, from a world which for love has no recompense and for faith no fulfillment.

A dog only got hurt if its love was repudiated, intentional or not, though it never had long to feel true sorrow in response because it never held its love back, regardless of reciprocation; the dog just tried to love you more. No other distractions such as work, home, friendships, or lovers—just the insistence of undying and unwavering affection in the truest sense of the word—asking for only a fraction of what it gave.

Some men are dogs; some dogs are women.

Life is hard. People can't be trusted. Vigilance is key. Be wise about whom you love, and when you do love, do it with every fiber of your being...'til death do you part.

I looked at his grave and, with tears in my eyes, I voiced these words: "You were worth it, old friend, and a thousand times over.

I know everyone whispers he is a rogue, but, Cinderella, surely you must realize he follows you with the loyalty of a dog?

People have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time. One never knows what they'll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master. Some people call this loyalty. I don't. I may be wrong, but I call it love-the deepest kind of love.

I shake my head, tutting. “Loyalty is another word for stupidity, Andreas. Dogs are loyal. You kick a loyal dog and it cowers at your feet, dreaming of a way to get back into your good graces. Kick me and I’ll bite your fucking hand off.

The secret belongs only to the Maker of good and faithful dogs.

If your dog, your best friend turns on you, take a good look at yourself. You may have a serious personality disorder.

Dogs are loyal friends, and if they could talk, your secrets would still be safe. (If my cat could talk, I’d have to let the dog eat her.)

Only dogs know and respect their masters. This is a rare characteristic of men who secretly envy their masters and wish their downfall.

Day after day, the whole day through— Wherever my road inclined— Four-Feet said, "I am coming with you!" And trotted along behind.

It was pitiful for a person born in a wholesome free atmosphere to listen to their humble and hearty outpourings of loyalty toward their king and Church and nobility; as if they had any more occasion to love and honor king and Church and noble than a slave has to love and honor the lash, or a dog has to love and honor the stranger that kicks him! Why, dear me, ANY kind of royalty, howsoever modified, ANY kind of aristocracy, howsoever pruned, is rightly an insult; but if you are born and brought up under that sort of arrangement you probably never find it out for yourself, and don't believe it when somebody else tells you. It is enough to make a body ashamed of his race to think of the sort of froth that has always occupied its thrones without shadow of right or reason, and the seventh-rate people that have always figured as its aristocracies -- a company of monarchs and nobles who, as a rule, would have achieved only poverty and obscurity if left, like their betters, to their own exertions... The truth was, the nation as a body was in the world for one object, and one only: to grovel before king and Church and noble; to slave for them, sweat blood for them, starve that they might be fed, work that they might play, drink misery to the dregs that they might be happy, go naked that they might wear silks and jewels, pay taxes that they might be spared from paying them, be familiar all their lives with the degrading language and postures of adulation that they might walk in pride and think themselves the gods of this world. And for all this, the thanks they got were cuffs and contempt; and so poor-spirited were they that they took even this sort of attention as an honor.

The most important lessons my fluffy divine gift has taught me are meant for sharing: 1. It’s logical to start each day with a kiss and a smile on your face. 2. Be grateful for everything. 3. Always let others know you’re thankful for their kindness to you. 4. Loyalty is based on having faith and trust in each other. It’s a two-way street. The formula works for all species.

There are some well-meaning liberals who continue to cling to colorblindness out of loyalty to a utopian vision of a raceless society. But for most fans of colorblindness, its attraction lies in that it sounds fair—even as it fosters the impression that discrimination against whites is rampant, and works assiduously to defeat policies actually geared to achieving integration.

A few days later, Tuesday quietly crossed our apartment as I read a book and, after a nudge against my arm, put his head on my lap. As always, I immediately checked my mental state, trying to assess what was wrong. I knew a change in my biorhythms had brought Tuesday over, because he was always monitoring me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Breathing? Okay. Pulse? Normal. Was I glazed or distracted? Was I lost in Iraq? Was a dark period descending? I didn't think so, but I knew something must be wrong, and I was starting to worry...until I looked into Tuesday's eyes. They were staring at me softly from under those big eyebrows, and there was nothing in them but love.

I think dogs were put in this world to remind humanity that love, loyalty, devotion, courage, patience, and good humor are the qualities that, with honesty, are the essence of admirable character and the very definition of a life well lived.

Dog's Loyalty *** O' unfaithful human Come and listen It will change Your entire life Only brave people Wear the pain On their body If you want to learn The style And the way of love I tell you That will open The secrets of the way Learn the faithfulness Love and the loyalty From the dogs O' unfaithful human Come and listen.

With some dogs you share a boil in the bag breakfast and maybe a blanket on a cold desert floor. Some you wouldn't leave in charge of your Grandma unless you wanted to find out just how fast the old girl could run. But, if you're very, very lucky there will be the one dog you would lay down your life for - and for me that dog is Buster.

Dogs were not loyal but servile, that cats were opportunists and traitors,

He crept up, and touched the face of the boy. "Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and forsake thee? I— a dog?" said that mute caress.

A dog knows and respects his master; men respect their masters only under duress, envy them and plot their downfall.

As long as you wag your tail you are a sincere dog, when you bark you are a ferocious dog but the moment you bite you become a mad dog .

Love is a dog. Which dog ? It depends on your experience

Dog are awesome. They don't care if you're clever or not; they just like to hang out with you

When a pet dies, as with any beloved person or thing, you do not just mourn the departed. You mourn the life you've lived along with the departed.

You’re not very loyal,” Isaac said as Alice took his hand. “Loyalty,” Ashes sniffed, “is for dogs. Cats have better sense.

Dogs, I think, might be more important than principles. They provide love and loyalty when you need them the most.

A full loyalty to the leader merely fits to the dogs, not to the humans!

Very well,” she said after a moment. “Here is how I see that loyalty and love are the same: You would lay down your life for someone for reasons of both love and loyalty. But loyalty implies dependence, doesn’t it? For instance, dogs are loyal. It also implies indebtedness. For instance, servants are loyal.” “It also implies integrity. And honor. And—” “Steadfastness,” she completed, with only a hint of irony. “So you see them as absolutes then, Miss Redmond? Love means to be willing to die for someone, and loyalty perhaps the same?” “How can they be otherwise?

Dogs are masters of creating emotionally safe space just by being themselves. ... it is as if something deep within our souls resonates with their energy, their unwavering unconditional love and unbridled joy to be in our presence, their undivided loyalty, and complete trust in us. Dogs make us feel special, and teach us by example to relish simple pleasures and live totally in the moment. They teach us there is only now and only who you are, who you are with, and what you are doing right then–and what could be better than to sniff the wind and be in the company of those you love?

When my experiences with dogs and other animals—and people—were fewer, I used to think it silly for people to speak of dogs as “family” or other animals as “friends.” Now I feel it’s silly not to. I’d overestimated the loyalty and staying power of humans and underestimated the intelligence and sensitivity of other animals. I think I understand both better. Their gifts overlap, though they are different gifts.

Digby, who is not really her brother, and actual Digby, her most faithful and cheering companion. He is a drawing scribbled over and screwed up and unscrewed again and kept in a pocket always. His presence in her life like a dog sleeping on the end of your bed: a loyalty so fond and constant, you only notice it on the rare occasions when you wake up and it’s gone, and then all you want to do is get up and find it,

I trusted them, wholly, and didn’t look over their shoulders, and that bred a powerful two-way loyalty. My management style wouldn’t have worked for people who wanted to be guided, every step, but this group found it liberating, empowering. I let them be, let them do, let them make their own mistakes, because that’s how I’d always liked people to treat me.

So this Logan guy, is he giving you a hard time about the wedding?” “He’s blackmailing me.” Kevin jumped to his feet so fast, she sat back in her chair. “He’s a dead man. I’m going to kick his ass so bad he won’t even be able to cry for his mommy. Gonna fold him up like a napkin.” His loyalty warmed her heart, even as embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “It’s…not what you’re thinking.” “I’m thinking by the time I’m done pounding on his face, even dogs will be afraid of him.

Our dogs relieve chronic pain, lift our spirits, sniff out cancer, detect impending heart attacks, seizures and migraines, lower our blood pressure and cholesterol levels, help us recover from devastating illness, and even improve our children’s IQ, as well as lowering their risk for adult allergies and asthma. Just think—the unconditional love, limitless affection and to-die-for loyalty of a well-chosen, well-trained, well-cared-for dog could be just what the doctor ordered!

Anyone who has ever shared his life with a dog understands the symbiotic nature of the relationship—how a dog relies on his master for sustenance and shelter, and responds with love and loyalty so unconditional that it can take your breath away.

There's no better loyalty then what comes from our dogs. They walk by our side, and alert us when someone's entering our territory. They greet us at the door, with love, like we've been gone for months. God placed them on the earth so, even in our most lonely times we have someone to love.

The unexamined life is eminently worth living, were anyone so fortunate. It would be the life of an animal, brave and alert, with instincts instead of opinions and decisions, loyalty to mate and cubs, to the pack. It might, for all we know, be a life of richest interest and happiness. Dogs dream. The quickened spirit of the eagle circling in high cold air is beyond our imagination. The placidity of cattle shames the Stoic, and what critic has the acumen of a cat? We have used the majesty of the lion as a symbol of royalty, the wide-eyed stare of owls for wisdom, the mild beauty of the dove for the spirit of God.

What struck me most though was that the lonely business of walking dogs for hours wasn’t in fact lonely at all. You’re never alone when you have a dog as a companion. They watch your every movement and hang on your every word. They love being with you (and I believe this is true of all dogs) and, wishing only to please you, actively want to understand you better. And if you strive to know them better too, you will be rewarded by undying loyalty and devotion. I was also fascinated, truly fascinated, by what made them tick. There was no time for introspection; I was too busy trying to figure out their mental workings. Being with dogs was escapism at its best.

Every good friend is my friend but every cat lover or dog friend is my best friend. ( BookFriend )

Dennis is the purest soul I know," said the crow, thick love spread all over him like cream cheese frosting. "Hmm. He'd shank you for a French fry," I told him, matter-of-factly.

I wasn't ready for a new dog, but I couldn't stand living without one either. By Vanessa Gregory, in the story 'Running Mates

Men,” said Mr. Kyle, “people have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time. One never knows what they’ll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master. Some people call this loyalty. I don’t. I may be wrong, but I call it love—the deepest kind of love.” After these words were spoken, a thoughtful silence settled over the men. The mood was broken by the deep growling voice I had heard back in the washout. “It’s a shame that people all over the world can’t have that kind of love in their hearts,” he said. “There would be no wars, slaughter, or murder; no greed or selfishness. It would be the kind of world that God wants us to have—a wonderful world.

Love like a dog. As long as it’s been treated with kindness and respect a dog will love you. A dog doesn’t care about your age, sex, gender identity, orientation, religion, race or socioeconomic bracket. A dog doesn’t care if you’re skinny, have stretch marks or scars. A dog doesn’t care how many people you’ve slept with, what hardships you’ve had to overcome; and if you’re crying a dog will come put its little chin on your chest and love you regardless. A dog doesn’t let these things dictate to whom or how much it extends its heart. A dog just loves. Love like a dog. A dog never tries to play it cool, hard to get or shies away from showing how much it loves. A dog’s composure is never betrayed by its tail because it freely and without hesitation shows how ecstatic it is to see you every time you walk through the door. When a dog is around other dogs it doesn’t pretend that it doesn’t really love tennis balls. A dog loves what it loves and is never embarrassed about showing how it feels. Love like a dog. A dog is loyal to and would fiercely defend those whom it loves. “For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.” Life is not always easy. At times you will have to be brave. At times you will be hurt. But a dog will never leave you. Stay close. Be faithful. Protect your pack. Love like a dog. That is my advice to you. Love like a dog.

They do not so much as hesitate in their actions, and I realize they cannot see my slick dark coat in the unlit room. Nor can they scent me with their clumsy human noses. They are indeed foolish predators, not only to hunt on another’s territory, but to hunt where their limited senses are useless. And they are very foolish to hunt my Lady.

Particularly in a xenophobic dog-eats-dog world, if even a single country chooses to pursue a high-risk, high-gain technological path, other countries will be forced to do the same, because nobody can afford to remain behind. In order to avoid such a race to the bottom, humankind will probably need some kind of global identity and loyalty.

That's the thing about Henry. He brings out the best of even the worst people. Dog books regularly describe the breed as "cheerful," but Henry goes one better. When he's out and about, he can be downright merry, and no matter what he's doing he's amusing, which is the trait I also most value in people. By Julia Reed, in the story Scents and Sensibilities

We were working on the idea about dogs’ Internet searches, and first we debated whether the sketch should feature real dogs or Henrietta and Viv in dog costumes (because cast members were always, unfailingly, trying to get more air time, we quickly went with the latter). Then we discussed where it should take place (the computer cluster in a public library, but, even though all this mattered for was the establishing shot, we got stalled on whether that library should be New York’s famous Main Branch building on Fifth Avenue, with the lion statues in front, a generic suburban library in Kansas City, or a generic suburban library in Jacksonville, Florida, which was where Viv was from). Then we really got stalled on the breeds of dogs. Out of loyalty to my stepfather and Sugar, I wanted at least one to be a beagle. Viv said that it would work best if one was really big and one was really little, and Henrietta said she was fine with any big dog except a German Shepherd because she’d been bitten by her neighbor’s German Shepherd in third grade. After forty minutes we’d decided on a St. Bernard and a Chihuahua—I eventually conceded that Chihuahuas were funnier than beagles. We decided to go with the Florida location for the establishing shot because the lions in front of the New York Main Branch could preempt or diminish the appearance of the St. Bernard. Then we’d arrived at the fun part, which was the search terms. With her mouth full of beef kebab, Viv said, “Am I adopted?” With my mouth full of spanakopita, I said, “Am I a good girl?” With her mouth full of falafel, Henrietta said, “Am I five or thirty-five?” “Why is thunder scary?” I said. “Discreet crotch-sniffing techniques,” Henrietta said. “Cheap mani-pedis in my area,” Viv said. “Oh, and cheapest self-driving car.” “Best hamburgers near me,” I said. “What is halitosis,” Henrietta said. “Halitosis what to do,” I said. “Where do humans pee,” Viv said. “Taco Bell Chihuahua male or female,” I said. “Target bull terrier married,” Viv said. “Lassie plastic surgery,” Henrietta said. “Funny cat videos,” I said. “Corgis embarrassing themselves YouTube,” Viv said. “YouTube little dog scares away big dog,” I said. “Doghub two poodles and one corgi,” Henrietta said. “Waxing my tail,” I said. “Is my tail a normal size,” Viv said.

Heald did not understand cats. All his life he had been a dog person, naturally averse to cats due to his allergies. Many of the women that he knew in the city had cats. It couldn’t be as simple as men being “dog people” and women being “cat people”; he knew that was too one- dimensional. Maybe something about cats’ apprehensive and complicated nature drew women to adore them, sensing a mirrored personality that had to be appreciated, or at the very least, respected. Dogs, with their fanatical, uncomplicated, and singular devotion, were everything a man could ever ask for.

As with other childlike traits, human adults remain playful and trusting in a way that looks a lot more like Labradors than adult wolves or chimpanzees. When a grown wolf or a chimp bares its teeth, you’d better run. Humans, even adult humans, are by and large more into chasing balls than establishing dominance. The readiness with which we play with our friends and acquaintances and even strangers is remarkable, even though verbal banter or wordplay tends to gradually displace physical wrestling. When I joke with the hot dog vendor about his pathetic loyalty to the Mets, as evinced by the baseball cap he is wearing, we become very much like two dogs wrestling in a park: My verbal jabs are play-serious, not meant to genuinely wound, and the successful banter establishes an ephemeral but important trust connection in the midst of a busy metropolis. Insult a chimpanzee’s favorite baseball team, on the other hand, and you’re likely to lose an arm. The fact that humans retain into adulthood the complex and sophisticated cognitive machinery required to play, and in fact continue to enjoy playing with others, is a reflection of the profound importance of trust in human affairs.

People have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time. One never knows what they’ll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master. Some people call this loyalty. I don’t. I may be wrong, but I call it love—the deepest kind of love. . . . It’s a shame that people all over the world can’t have that kind of love in their hearts. . . . There would be no wars, slaughter, or murder; no greed or selfishness. It would be the kind of world that God wants us to have—a wonderful world. —Wilson Rawls, Where the Red Fern Grows

There was a time, when I first found out I was pregnant with twins, that I saw only a state of conflict. When I looked at theater and parenthood, I saw only war, competing loyalties, and I thought my writing life was over. There were times when it felt as though my children were annihilating me (truly you have not lived until you have changed one baby’s diaper while another baby quietly vomits on your shin), and finally I came to the thought, All right, then, annihilate me; that other self was a fiction anyhow. And then I could breathe. I could investigate the pauses. I found that life intruding on writing was, in fact, life. And that, tempting as it may be for a writer who is also a parent, one must not think of life as an intrusion. At the end of the day, writing has very little to do with writing, and much to do with life. And life, by definition, is not an intrusion.

It’s a bizarre but widespread myth that only heroes have good qualities, and the only qualities heroes have are good; villains are, by definition, all bad. Bullshit. Think about it. Think of the qualities it takes to be a successful or even competent criminal. You need courage—to climb into a stranger’s house, the floor plan of which you don’t know, fully aware that the householder is almost certainly well provided with weapons, large dogs, strong and active servants—would you want to do that?—and for what? A sackful of small, portable artworks, for which you’ll probably get ten groschen on the kreutzer. To which add a calm, deliberate mind, resourcefulness, a steady hand, a delicate touch, the ability to work quickly and methodically. And that’s just for your scum-of-the-earth, back-alley burglar. Take the truly dreadful, evil men of history, slaughters of nations in the name of some twisted idea. Of necessity you must allow them to have had Faith (which moves mountains and without which mere works are in vain) and Hope, Loyalty, and Self-Sacrifice in the Name of the Cause, and practically every other noble and glorious characteristic you can possibly think of, except for the small matter of being in the right…

Why did you help AgriGen for so long?" The doctor's eyes narrow. "The same reason you run like a dog for your masters. They paid me in the coin I wanted most." Her slap rings across the water. The guards start forward, but Kanya is already drawing back, shaking off the sting in her hand, waving away the guards. "We're fine. Nothing is wrong." The guards pause, unsure of their duty and loyalties. The doctor touches his broken lip, examines the blood thoughtfully. Looks up. "A sore spot, there. . . How much of yourself have you already sold?" He smiles showing teeth rimed bloody from Kanya's strike. "Are you AgriGen's then? Complicit?" He looks into Kanya's eyes. "Are you here to kill me? To end my thorn in their side?" He watches closely, eyes peering into her soul, observant, curious. "It is only a matter of time. They must know that I am here. That I am yours. The Kingdom couldn't have fared so well for so long without me. Couldn't have released nightshades and ngaw without my help. We all know they are hunting. Are you my hunter, then? Are you my destiny?" Kanya scowls. "Hardly. We're not done with you yet." Gibbons slumps. "Ah, of course not. But then, you never will be. That is the nature of our beasts and plagues. They are not dumb machines to be driven about. They have their own needs and hungers. Their own evolutionary demands. They must mutate and adapt, and so you will never be done with me, and when I am gone, what will you do then? We have released demons upon the world, and your walls are only as good as my intellect. Nature has become something new. It is ours now, truly. And if our creation devours us, how poetic will that be?" "Kamma," she murmurs. "Precisely.